


In the Library

by letmegeekatyou



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Consent, Dirty Talk, Dominant Castiel, Enthusiastic Consent, Hand Jobs, Library Sex, Light Bondage, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Silence Kink, Smut, Submissive Sam Winchester, Wing Bondage, Wing Kink, mild PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-18
Updated: 2014-03-20
Packaged: 2018-01-12 21:40:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1201621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letmegeekatyou/pseuds/letmegeekatyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Cas are both homesick in their own ways, and Sam likes to look after Cas, let him know he's not alone. Sometimes that just means keeping him company, but sometimes it means distracting him in ways that leave them both breathless and half-naked on the library floor. Over time, they find ways not just to distract each other but to help each other cope with their losses and pain. Often naked. Because reasons. Like how it's a metaphor for emotional vulnerability and stuff. Yeah.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Distractions

Cas has been around humans long enough to know that Enochian is flowery, full of unnecessary flourishes and archaic syntax. But he can’t help feeling a little homesick when he reads it, not just homesick for Heaven, although he is, but homesick for the times before. Before the apocalypse and Leviathan and Metatron and everything else. And he loves the Winchesters, but there was a time when he didn’t love humans, not like this, and in some ways it was easier. Because even if you love humans, there’s always something inaccessible about them, and it’s easy to get lonely.

Sam knows why Cas likes to research in the far corners of the library, sitting on the floor more often than not, huge Enochian tomes spread across his lap. Because Sam keeps a few law textbooks by his bed, not really out of any sort of hope that life will go back to the way it was, but because there’s something so familiar and comforting about the legal vocabulary. Even when it’s dense and hard to follow, it’s his language. it brings him back to Stanford, to Jess, to a time when he was just a kid with a rough childhood and a distant father, trying to get through college like everybody else. A time when he was normal.

Normal is different now, he thinks, catching a glimpse of an angel in a trench coat wandering through the secret bunker that he now calls home. It’s full of unknowable things and pretty much everybody he knows is more powerful, more divine, more something than he is. It makes it hard to feel connected to anyone, makes it hard to relate.

Seeing Cas homesick, though—that, he can relate to. It’s part of that strangely human side of his friend that’s become more and more prominent over time. It’s a side of Cas that Sam wants to protect and care for, a side that reminds him that, angel or not, Cas is far from what he knows and will never be able to go back to the way things were before.

So sometimes when he sees Cas on the floor of the library leaning over a book, one hand trailing across the page and the other holding his head as if it’s becoming heavier with each word, Sam joins him. Sometimes he’ll have his own book and sit on the floor beside him, reading silently. Sometimes, he’ll come sit behind Cas, wrapping one arm around his waist and reading over his shoulder, occasionally asking him to translate, a warm anchor behind the angel reminding him that he’s not as alone as he feels.

Other times, though, Sam knows Cas needs to be distracted, and over time, he’s figured out some effective ways to do just that.

It’s been a hard week, with little progress on Gadreel or Abaddon, and Cas is burying himself, for hours upon hours, in stacks of books that he hopes will allow him to track the renegade angel. He doesn’t feel soreness or stiffness like humans, but his grace constricts a little, gets a bit tight, when his vessel is in one position too long, and Sam can see the tension across his shoulders. So he lowers himself quietly until he’s kneeling on the floor behind Cas and goes to work on his tie.

Cas doesn’t protest, so Sam slips the tie off, then begins slowly unbuttoning his shirt and trailing his fingers down his chest as he presses kisses into the back of Cas’s neck. It’s a tug of war for his attention, Sam’s lips versus the old spells, and Sam knows he’s won when Cas finally raises his head from the page, pushes the book away (perhaps less gently than he means to), and leans backward with a sigh, resting his head on Sam’s shoulder to give him better access to his throat.

He might not always be easy to distract, but once Sam can get him to put the book away, Cas becomes insatiable in a way that would make Sam laugh if it wasn’t so damn hot. He grabs one of Sam’s hands, which had been busy exploring Cas’s chest, and pushes it down toward his pants with a moan.

Sam loses no time in complying with the angel’s demand, quickly undoing his pants and pulling out his cock with a calculated roughness that makes Cas’s whole body tense in his arms.

"I got you," Sam whispers into his ear as he strokes his fingers firmly along the shaft. "I got you, Cas."

It takes no time at all for Cas to grow hard, and his hands grip Sam’s thighs tightly, his breathing becoming ragged. Sam knows that Cas breathes only out of habit, not necessity, so he finds the fact that Cas forgets his angelic invulnerability and starts gasping for air when Sam touches him incredibly arousing. He holds the angel against his own body, between his legs, making sure Cas can feel his own erection against his back. Can feel how seeing Cas this way, so hungry, so human, makes Sam react.

Cas closes his eyes and moans Sam’s name, and Sam runs his palm over the wet tip of Cas’s cock with every stroke, loving the way Cas thrusts up desperately into his hand, loving the unevenness of his breath and the brokenness of his voice.

"Come for me, Cas," Sam growls against Cas’s throat, running his teeth along the tender flesh, and Cas does come, hot and eager, digging his fingers into Sam’s thighs with a loud gasp and collapsing against him.

The languorous weight of the angel in his arms is one of Sam’s favorite sensations, and even though he’s aching for his own release, he takes a moment to enjoy it, wrapping his arms around Cas, who has finally opened his eyes, and kissing him gently.

"Sam…"

"Yeah, Cas?"

"You made me lose my place."

But he doesn’t seem too upset.


	2. Silence

Castiel's whole body trembled in the wake of his orgasm, Sam's strong arms the only thing keeping him from sliding into a blissful pile on the floor of the library. It was so strange; no matter how many times Sam brought him to this, it was always new and strong and overwhelming.

More than that, it was freeing. To give himself over to anyone, much less a human, with their strange inconsistencies, their weaknesses and mortality, and yet to feel completely safe and not at all afraid...It made his heart feel both tight and warm all at once.

"Sam?"

"Yeah, Cas?"

"You made me lose my place," he complained, knowing that Sam wouldn't take the gripe seriously.

"Sorry about that. Thought you could use a break, since you've been working so hard." Sam trailed a lazy hand up and down Cas's wet stomach, occasionally brushing a teasing finger against his over-sensitive cock. The sensation was sharp, bringing Cas out of his stupor and reminding him of the heat of Sam's own desire against his back. Cas smiled and turned in his arms, leaning into Sam to kiss him, deeply and gratefully. His hands slid under the hem of Sam's t-shirt, breaking their kiss long enough to tug it over his head, and he used the weight of his body to push them both down until they were lying on the floor.

"You have also been working  _very_ hard, Sam," Cas murmured, his lips hovering just above Sam's as he pressed their hips together. The way Sam arched under him at the contact was so beautiful, Cas thought. The way he stretched his head back and exposed his throat, eyes fluttering closed. He looked so vulnerable, letting himself be lost under Cas's mouth and hands. Cas brought his teeth down gently on his exposed neck, loving the small sounds that escaped Sam as he kissed and nibbled down his throat, amazed at being allowed to touch him this way, at being trusted to take him apart.

And Cas was very good at taking Sam apart. He enjoyed watching his face as he kissed and licked all over his chest, the way Sam's mouth fell open, the way his brow furrowed when Cas took a nipple between his teeth, the way he raised his head and the hunger in his eyes when Cas held his hips and dipped his tongue into his belly button.

"Fuck, Cas..." Sam cried out as Cas moved lower, nuzzing him through his jeans. He felt Sam's fingers tight in his hair, twisting and tugging, not enough to hurt but enough to communicate his need.

"You should be quieter, Sam. What if Dean hears you?" Cas couldn't help teasing. Sam whined pitifully as Cas finally, slowly pulled his zipper down. "In fact, you should really try not to make any sound at all. Do you think you can do that?"

Sam took a few deep breaths and nodded. This was a game they'd played before, with subtle variations. Sometimes, Sam wasn't allowed to answer while Cas told him, at length, how beautiful and good he was. Sometimes they both tried to be silent, while each tried every trick he could think of to get the other to gasp, moan, or beg. Cas was naturally the quieter of the two, but restraints of other kinds were intensely frustrating and exciting to him, and he sometimes allowed Sam to bind his hands or, less often, touch his wings. He was constantly amazed at the erotic power of restraint and submission and grateful for the exchange of trust it represented between them.

He also very much liked the faces Sam made when he was forced to be silent. Now, as Cas slid his pants and boxers down his legs with excruciating slowness, Sam lifted himself up on his elbows to watch him with an intensity that Cas recognized from battle—he was fighting to stay in control of himself, preparing to meet Castiel's challenge.

That look made it difficult for Cas to restrain himself, and it didn't help that Sam was simply beautiful like this, his body laid out under Cas, rising and falling all golden and wanting desperately to be touched. But Cas wanted to take his time, to draw out this moment. He had not been at his best when Sam found him earlier—he had been feeling far away from everything, everyone—but now he was back, drawn back as he always was by this extraordinary man, who always knew what he needed and looked after him so well. For everything Sam had given him, he wanted to make this  _good_.

He licked his way up Sam's thigh, hands stroking his hips. Sam's breath sped up as Cas approached his already leaking erection, but Cas just let it brush his cheek, and Sam's sharp intake of breath made Cas smile as he kissed the patch of dark hair at the base of his cock.

“Sam, you are beautiful,” Cas murmured, sliding lower to nuzzle his balls, sucking gently and feeling Sam's thigh tremble against his cheek. Then he raised his eyes to watch Sam as he finally slid his tongue up his length, grinning as Sam bit his lip to keep from making a sound and his entire face scrunched up in pleasure and frustration. But Cas could also see the tension in his arms, and he pulled away for a moment.

“Lie down,” he commanded, his voice quiet but firm. He enjoyed Sam's desire, but he wanted him to relax and to let Cas take care of him. “I've got  _you_ , Sam,” he added, caressing Sam's thigh with long, gentle strokes. Sam nodded, smiling a little as Cas echoed his own words back to him, and laid back down, closing his eyes.

Cas went back to the task at hand, sliding his tongue and fingers up and down Sam's length while the hunter writhed underneath him. He knew how badly Sam wanted to talk, just to say his name over and over, or to speak those unintelligible fragments and small blasphemies that Cas loved drawing out of him. But this was wonderful, too—to feel Sam's need in the involuntary thrust of his hips, the trembling of his stomach under Cas's hand, his fingers tangled in Cas's hair, careful not to pull too hard but oh, so close to losing control. And the breathlessness that replaced talking, the small sounds in his throat and the way he shook as he let out each gasp—these were as beautiful to Cas as any words.

Sam managed not to say anything as Cas wrapped his fingers around his cock and curled his tongue around the wet head, but when the angel finally took him into his mouth, he let out an involuntary cry, then a whimper as Cas slid slowly back up and off.

“You were being so quiet, Sam.” He shook his head, rubbing his thumb lightly against the underside of Sam's cock as he spoke. “Do you need me to use my grace?” It wasn't a threat, just a question. Cas could silence him with his grace, but Sam liked to be able to prove himself, to be quiet on his own. Sam felt about being magically silenced much the same as Cas felt about having his wings held—it was a step beyond the usual into territory they were still exploring and still, often, unsure about. Sam shook his head and set his mouth into a tight, determined line, and Cas nodded back.

It wasn't long before Cas had Sam gasping, on the edge of crying out again, but Sam didn't let out a sound, just heavy, uneven breaths. Cas set a fierce pace, taking him deep into his throat, pulling back to suck gently at the tip for a moment before sinking back down. He held Sam's hips down, refusing to let him move, taking complete control of the hunter.

When Cas could feel Sam coming close to the edge, could hear it in his breathing, he was surprised to feel Sam tugging up on his hair. He slid up his length, licking around the tip for good measure, then looked into Sam's eyes—he was still silent, but as he pulled Cas toward him, the angel understood. Keeping one hand wrapped possessively around Sam's cock, Cas crawled forward and let Sam draw him down until their mouth collided. Soon, Sam was coming in hot spurts over Cas's hand, his cries muffled by a deep, hungry kiss.

They lay like that for a while, Cas throwing an arm across Sam's chest as Sam languidly stroked his hair, occasionally turning Cas's head to press kisses onto his temple, his cheek, his lips. Cas thought briefly about the book he'd been reading, wondering if he'd be able to find his place again, then laughed quietly to himself.

“What's so funny?” Sam asked, frowning. Cas just looked at him with an easy smile and gently caressed the side of Sam's face.

“I found my place,” he answered, leaning in to kiss away Sam's frown.


	3. Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas and Sam explore the possibilities of wings.

Sometimes, when Cas is lost in pleasure, riding Sam’s cock like he can’t get enough, can’t get him deep enough, he’ll come with his eyes closed and his head thrown back, manifesting his wings with a gust of wind and a shout like thunder. They unfurl from his back like he’s about to take flight, stretching across the room, the feathers stiff and flickering, the tips folding and unfolding in an echo of Cas’s hands as they clutch at Sam’s chest. It is magnificent.

He doesn’t always do it, of course—some positions make it unsafe, and sometimes furniture or the size of a room makes it awkward—but when he does, the sensation is so intense that it Cas has to be still for a moment after, letting his orgasm ripple through his feathers until he can breath again, can retract the wings and collapse, shaking and speechless, into Sam’s arms.

Manifested, his wings are essentially exposed grace. They are hypersensitive, vulnerable, and it takes some time for Cas to let Sam touch them. They spend hours talking, with gentle touches and explanations, and haltingly establish boundaries and rules—“how does this feel?” “What if I pull the feathers?” “Does this hurt? In a bad way or a good way?” It’s like beginning all over again, learning each other’s bodies and wants and fears, and it’s a little scary, but it always ends in soft kisses and murmured "I love you"s, and Cas comes to enjoy exploring himself as much as Sam does. And sometimes they surprise each other, and themselves.

***

One night, Cas woke to find Sam’s side of the bed empty. Worried, he wandered through the bunker until he found the hunter in the library (of course), sitting with his back against a shelf and an old book in his hands.

"Are you alright, Sam?"

"Oh, hey, Cas. Yeah, I just… I had a dream. A Cage dream. I came down here to read up on the lore about how it was built." Cas nodded sleepily. It wasn’t unusual for Sam to dream about the Cage and to seek reassurance of its strength. But it always worried him. Some nights, Sam wouldn’t come back to bed at all, he’d just stay out here with his books, feeling safer with the old words than his own dreams.

"Can I…can I help?" If Sam said no, he’d leave, even though he didn’t want to. But Sam smiled up at the angel, whose hair was sticking up and whose bare chest still carried the imprint of their wrinkled sheets. He held out a hand.

"Yeah, come here, baby," he said, pulling Cas down to straddle his thighs. “Help me warm up?” Cas smiled, leaning in slowly to brush his lips against Sam’s, imagining the ice of the Cage melting away under his touch. They kissed lazily at first, Sam’s hands sliding down Cas’s arms, along his sides, as if to reassure himself of the angel’s solidity, Cas’s hands gentle on Sam’s face and trailing through his hair.

It was overwhelming, Cas thought, to be allowed to kiss Sam Winchester. To be allowed to touch him at all, after all the times he had been broken open and pieced back together. He licked carefully at Sam’s lips, and Sam opened his mouth to invite him in, filling Castiel with gratitude and desire. Sam must have felt it, too, because he dropped his hands to Cas’s hips and pulled him closer, moaning into his mouth as he felt the swell of Cas’s arousal against his own.

"Tell me, Sam," Cas panted, laying his cheek against Sam’s and pouring the words into his ear. "Tell me what you need."

Sam slid on hand around to the small of Cas’s back and held him tightly.

"Need to make you come, Cas. Can I…"

"Yes, please, _yes_ , Sam,” Cas answered, pressing a kiss under Sam’s ear and pulling himself away just long enough to toss aside his boxers. As he settled himself back in Sam’s lap, the hunter grabbed him tightly, fingers digging into the soft flesh of his backside. “Touch me, Sam. Make me come. Whatever you need,” Cas whispered against Sam’s lips. “Whatever you need.”

Sam ducked his head to kiss hungrily at Cas’s throat, alternating kisses with bites and licks and making Cas moan so that he could feel the vibrations against his lips. Cas let his head fall back, pressing his aching cock into Sam’s belly and wrapping his arms around his neck, hanging on tightly and letting Sam comfort himself with the taste of his skin, the reassurances that tumbled from his lips, “yes, Sam, _yes_.”

He felt Sam’s hands slide around to his front, tracing the soft curves of his stomach and the angles of his hips slowly, so slowly that Cas heard himself whimper, letting Sam set the pace but desperately wanting him to hurry up. Sam knew it, too, and he returned one hand to Cas’s back and laid the other gently on the back of Cas’s neck.

“Baby, look at me,” he whispered, and Cas opened his eyes as Sam placed a gentle kiss on his cheek. “Can I touch you?” Cas’s voice caught in his throat, and all he could do was nod and twist his fingers in Sam’s hair. And then Sam was kissing him again, firmly and patiently, as he let his hand trace Cas’s collarbone, then lower, his fingernails glancing over a nipple, making Cas gasp, his thumb pressing Cas’s sternum, and lower, his fingers splayed out over his stomach, and lower…

When Sam finally wrapped his fingers lightly around Cas’s cock, every one of the angel’s muscles tensed in pleasure, his mouth dropping open against Sam’s, making Sam smile and nibble Cas’s lips teasingly.

“Going to make you come so hard, Cas. I want to make you feel so good…” he promised, gently thumbing Cas’s slit and spreading precome all along his shaft. Sometimes, Sam needed to let Cas take him apart, so he could be reassured that he could be put back together. But sometimes, Cas knew, he needed to take someone else apart, to be trusted, to be reassured after years of violation and possession that his body was _his_ , and that he was _good_ , and that his touch was welcome and could make someone feel love and pleasure instead of pain.

Cas reassured him now, with whimpers and gasps from deep inside him, that his touch was very, very welcome. Sam slid his practiced fingers along Cas’s length, and his breath was hot against Cas’s throat as he encouraged him, praised him: “that’s it, baby. Let me hear you... _fuck_ , you’re beautiful, Cas...”

Angels and demons and everything in between had told Cas that he was beautiful, but somehow Sam made him believe it. He arched against Sam’s hand on his back, feeling the roots of his wings shivering, wanting to make a show of himself, so that Sam would _know_ what his touch did to the angel. He reached behind Sam to knock the books on the shelf aside and cling to the wood, giving himself more leverage and control (they had both had good reason, on more than one occasion, to be grateful that whoever had installed those shelves had had the foresight to make them permanent fixtures), and he loosed his grace.

In the dark of the library, his wings flew out from his back like glowing waves, casting a shimmering light on the books and causing scattered papers to flutter off their shelves. He could feel them to their tips, alive and vibrating with desire and pleasure as he thrust into Sam’s hand, and as he looked down, seeing the awe in Sam’s eyes, he felt a sudden yearning.

“Sam, _oh fuck, Sam_ , hold me… _please_ ,” he whimpered, forehead pressed to Sam’s and eyes shut tight with pleasure.

“Cas, what--”

“My wings, please, _hold my wings_ , Sam.” Sam hesitated--this wasn’t their usual way. Usually, it was slow and quiet, touching and stroking, but Cas was begging, hips moving desperately, so Sam slid his free hand carefully up to lay over the root of one of his wings.

“Tell me if you want me to stop, Cas. Just say the word, and I’ll let go.”

“Don’t... _don’t let go_.” Cas pushed his shoulder back, pressing the sensitive root against Sam’s palm and keened, his voice totally wrecked. Sam caught his mouth in a fierce kiss, then he closed his hand over the soft feathers and held on tightly. Cas’s breath was coming in sobs, and his wings flared with every twist of Sam’s hand around his cock.

“I’ve got you. I’m not letting go, Cas,” Sam promised, lips pressed to Cas’s jaw, his throat, kissing everywhere he could reach as the angel arched in his arms, every movement of his wings pulling him upward against the restraints of Sam’s hands. “I'm not letting go.”

He pulled Cas closer, fighting those shimmering wings for control, and Cas leaned into him, hard.

“ _Sam, oh God, Sam_ ,” he cried, part blasphemy and part prayer, and his whole body shuddered as he came.

Sam raised his eyes to Cas’s wings, watching something like electricity shoot through them as Cas gasped for air, every feather trembling and alight for a brief moment. The light spilled out of them, rippling along the stacks of books and making the entire library feel like it was under water, like they were both drowning in grace.

In a heartbeat, it all receded, the light fading as the wings folded in on themselves, dissolving into the gloom above Cas. His back was warm under Sam’s hand and his arms wrapped around Sam’s neck, and he was so still he might have been asleep.

“You okay, Cas? Hey, talk to me.” Sam drew the angel’s face up to look at him, but his eyes were closed.

“I’m okay,” he whispered, leaning his forehead against Sam’s. “I just… I need a minute.”

“Okay,” Sam answered, closing his own eyes and letting Cas settle against him. “Okay.”

After a while--it might have been five minutes or thirty, Sam wasn’t sure--Cas opened his eyes and sat back, contemplating Sam in that angelic way of his.

“Sam, I think...I think I would like to try that again. Not right now, of course, but sometime.”

"Are you sure? That...it seemed to take a lot out of you, Cas."

"Thank you, Sam, for looking out for me," Cas answered, leaning forward a little to kiss Sam gently. "Yes, it was...it frightened me, to be held like that, but then...there was you." He smiled. "And I wasn't afraid anymore. I don't know if I'm explaining this well, but maybe we can talk more in the morning."

"Okay, Cas. Morning sounds good." They disentangled themselves to stand up, and Sam glanced around at the debris of books and papers around them. "Morning sounds good for cleaning up, too, don't you think?"

"Yes," Cas answered, finding his boxers on one of the shelves and frowning at the damage. "It will be a busy morning."


	4. Bound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam has a gift for Cas that makes him weak in the knees.

After that night in the library, they started experimenting in earnest. It remained frightening for Castiel to have his wings restrained, but he knew he could always retract them, and he was reassured by Sam’s steady, concerned presence. Whenever Cas’s wings were out, Sam made sure they could see each other’s faces, and he stopped things more often than Cas did; where the angel would barrel into his fear and try to tear it apart, Sam felt safer going more slowly. Nothing scared him more than the possibility of hurting Cas.

The angel came to crave Sam’s hands in his wings, though, and they found ways of doing it that were exciting for both of them. Sam’s strong fingers tangling in Castiel’s feathers as he pinned him by the wings to a wall or used the roots as leverage to raise and lower himself on Cas’s cock. Sam holding Cas’s wing tips and forcing them to curve inward, encircling their trembling bodies. When he had a good grip on them, the wings pulled against Sam’s hands like they had a mind of their own. Sometimes, Cas couldn’t completely control his wings’ reflexes, and Sam _had_ to hold them still to keep them from lifting the angel off the ground, and it felt like burning in Cas’s joints. The power of his wings as they fought made him feel more like an angel than he had in a long time, and the way it brought him to his knees made him feel exposed and desperate and _human_. It felt, strangely, like freedom.

Eventually Sam, realizing how limited his two hands were and always wanting to touch Cas _more_ , got creative. He spent a week doing something secretive in the library, pretending to be filling in the gaps in some old files but shuffling his papers quickly into folders when anyone came in. He wasn’t fooling anybody, but Dean was pretty sure that it had something to do with the frankly horrifying sounds that came from Sam and Cas’s bedroom (or the library, or _the kitchen what are they animals?_ ) at night, and he certainly was not going to investigate. For all he knew, Sam was looking for a magical angel g-spot or something, and that was knowledge he was much happier without.

Cas was harder to fend off, with his squinting and staring and just _standing_ there, watching Sam pretend to read about dragon taxonomy for hours at a time, rolling his eyes every time he entered a room to find Sam shoving a sheaf of papers onto his lap and trying to look innocent. Finally, Sam told him that he was working on a surprise, and he needed to quit being so nosy or he’d ruin it. Cas didn’t quite understand the appeal of surprises and tried to interrogate Sam about what possible value they could have, but eventually he gave up with a sigh. Humans, he thought, are unfathomable.

It might be necessary to reevaluate his stance on surprises, he thought, when Sam finally unveiled his designs for an adjustable wing harness, with straps that would press into his feathers, that could pin his wings to his back, that could force them to be still. Cas, looking at it over Sam’s shoulder, had to grab the back of his chair as his knees went weak.

“Do you like it?”

“Sam, that’s…”

“I know we have to work out a lot of details, like materials and stuff, but--”

“That can wait.”

“Cas?” But Cas had already turned Sam’s chair around, almost sending the hunter onto the floor in his haste. He let his not-so-steady legs collapse, and Sam forgot about his plans as Cas eagerly opened the front of his jeans and swallowed him down.

Later, much later, they went over Sam’s plans in detail. For weeks, they worked when they had spare time, periodically stopping to test out an idea (for science, of course), which so often ended with them in bed (or with Dean, to his horror, catching them _not_ in bed) that eventually they just brought all the designs and pieces into the bedroom and worked there.

It took a while to get it right: the right materials, the adjustability, and so on. Neither of them wanted real leather, and eventually they found a synthetic that was strong enough (barely) without being too inflexible. Sam took measurements of every wing segment and the angles to which they could be stretched and folded, although that took forever because the measuring tape kept sliding against Cas’s feathers and tickling him (which, in turn, made his wings twitch and flicker and just generally resist being measured). They discussed pressure points and how to incorporate multiple angles of restraint without making it too complicated to be practical, and just talking about it, about how much he could take, about where he wanted the straps to pull and bind and how he wanted them to be able to tighten, made Cas a little breathless. Occasionally, he had to walk away for a bit, to go for a run or just some air to calm down, leaving Sam lying back in their bed, smirking and thinking all sorts of things about what he was going to do when they got the harness fully functional.

When it was ready, there were two wide horizontal straps for each wing, with a network of smaller straps keeping them in place. At their tightest, the straps would keep Castiel’s wings folded against his back, completely unable to open, but they could be adjusted, and extensions could be added, potentially allowing a wide range of motion. Looser straps, lined with softer material that would be less rough on Sam’s hands, were attached at key points that would let him pull and guide the wings (and Cas) where he wanted them to go.

Cas had to practice wearing it, loosely and without any touching, just to be able to stand the intensity of the contact, the way it slid across his feathers, the ways it restricted his movement. He could retract the wings any time to get out, but he liked to have Sam help him in and out of it, so they could both get accustomed to how it worked and felt.

They’d be in bed together, Cas sitting or lying on his stomach with his wings hovering over him, held in place by the harness and trembling at the sensation, Sam sitting against the headboard, close but not touching him, and they’d talk. Sometimes about nothing, about the weather or a case or getting a new rug for the bedroom, because Cas needed to be distracted from the intimate way the straps pressed into him and his nervousness about not being able to move the way he usually could. Other times, Cas would talk about changes they could make, a strap that was pinching or felt too loose, how they could add connections that would make it more adjustable from the front as well as the back. It was all very practical, and he could almost have been talking about a home improvement project if it weren’t for the way he had to stop every few words, breathing hard and twisting his hands in the sheets. Sam would take notes, sometimes making careful adjustments, and try not to think about how hard it made him, seeing Cas tied up and prostrate on the bed, shaking with nerves and pleasure, and not being allowed to touch him.

It wasn’t always good. Sometimes, Cas’s mind would wander, and he’s stumble onto something--a memory, a fear, thoughts of Naomi or Metatron--that pushed him from nervousness into panic, and he would push himself back off the bed violently, shaking, trying to reach the restraints, forgetting he could retract his wings and let the harness just drop off of him. Those times, Sam would have to grab at him, holding him still enough to unbuckle the straps while Cas sobbed and twisted as if he could shake the harness off. It was terrifying, a glimpse into the damage that Cas still carried with him and probably always would. As Sam stood aside, the harness discarded behind him, and watched Cas crouch on the floor at the foot of the bed, clutching the mattress and trying to bring himself back from that dark place, he wondered if it was worth it, whether they should abandon the idea altogether.

He knew that Cas needed him to stay back. They’d talked about it, about the space and air Cas needed to calm down, about not blocking the door, not hovering, never touching. It went against every one of Sam’s instincts, but he did it anyway, sitting nervously on the bed and just waiting, patiently, for Cas to come back to him.

He always did come back. Some times took longer than others, but eventually he would push himself off the ground and go take a shower, or climb into bed and lean his head on Sam’s shoulder. He’d talk about it, or not, and eventually he would fall asleep lying on top of the covers, one hand stretched out to touch Sam’s hand, or chest, or hair, and he’d wake up curled up under Sam’s arm, and he’d be back.

But those moments were rare; almost always, Castiel’s time with the harness was good. It left him shaky and oversensitive, and after they took it off and Sam was allowed to touch him again, it didn’t take much before he was clinging to Sam and coming, hard, and collapsing in relief.

As overwhelming as the sensations were, Cas was even more swept away by _Sam_. By the way he held back, did whatever Cas needed him to do, always so patient and gentle. Cas was the one in the harness, but Sam’s restraint was, if anything, more intense--nothing held him back from touching Cas except his own self-control, and Cas knew how hard it was on him. How could he _not_ notice Sam’s dark eyes, the erections that Sam tried so hard to ignore? He wasn’t ready to touch or be touched in the harness, but he wanted to let Sam in, let him be more a part of what they were doing. And he couldn’t use his body, but his voice--that he could use.

One night Castiel knelt on the bed, wings bound as tightly as the harness would allow, slowly twisting his spine to test his limits. As Sam watched him, Cas closed his eyes, breathing heavily. He was naked except for the harness, cock hard between his legs and every movement sending flashes of light through his feathers, accompanied by twinges of pleasure that ran through his whole body. He smiled a little, knowing _exactly_ what this sight must be doing to Sam. His boyfriend had a wing kink, that was for sure, and Castiel really didn’t mind. He had spent a lot of time doubting himself--as an angel, as a person, but Sam helped him push all that aside. To Sam, he was awesome, in the old sense of the word. To Sam, he was magnificent. Especially like this.

“What do you think, boy?” he growled, arching his back and opening his eyes to meet Sam’s. “How do I look?” He smirked, enjoying the way Sam’s mouth hung open as he took in the sight of the angel, bound and kneeling, backlit by those spectacular wings. He was already obviously hard under his yoga pants, which hid exactly nothing.

“Fuck, Cas. You look...amazing.” He swallowed, hard. “How...how does the new strap feel?” He was trying to focus on the technical things, but tonight, Cas didn’t want to be distracted.

“Feels good,” he moaned, letting his head fall back so Sam could get a good look at his throat. “Feels _so_ good.”

“Uh, good. Good,” Sam repeated, pushing himself up a little higher on the headboard, as if sitting up straighter would help him stay in control of himself. Well, Castiel wasn’t going to let that happen.

“Will you do something for me, Sam?” He felt sparks in his shoulders and at the peaks of his wings, and he gripped the sheets to anchor himself. Sam nodded, unable to speak. “I want to see you. Want to see you touch yourself.”

Sam’s breath caught in his throat. He was still for a moment, then he nodded, reaching down to slide off his pants, never taking his eyes off of Castiel’s writhing body.

“So beautiful, Sam,” Cas whispered, watching as Sam slid a loose fist up and down his shaft, his chest heaving. “I wish I could touch you wearing this. Wish--mm--wish I could put my mouth on you.”

“M-me, too, baby. We’ll get there,” Sam promised, looking him in the eyes and reassuring him. He thrust quickly into his own hand, but he kept his eyes on Cas.

“For now, though, I want you to tell me.” Cas gasped as his wings fluttered against the harness. “Tell me what--what you want to do to me.”

“Oh, fuck, Cas, _everything_.”

“Tell me,” Castiel demanded, stiffening and pulling against the movement of his wings, focusing on Sam’s open, panting mouth instead of the harness that kept them in check.

“I--I want to put you on your hands and knees.” His hand tightened around his cock.

“I like that idea,” Cas answered, letting go of the sheets and leaning forward as Sam had described. His wings ached with the movement, sending a wave of electricity down his back. “What else?”

Sam licked his lips. He was having trouble keeping his eyes on Cas, as his head fell back against the headboard.

“I want to lick you open. S-slowly,” he moaned, thumbing his slit. It was wet with pre-come, and Cas wanted desperately to lick it up, but the thought of doing it while he was bound made his arms shaky. He let himself slide forward onto his elbows, ass in the air and wings a frantic weight above his head.

“Cas?”

“Keep going. Fuck, Sam, keep going,” he moaned, raising his head to watch Sam. He was so fucking beautiful, this man, it was overwhelming.

“I w-want to put my fingers in you...you want me so bad, Cas...so-- _ah_ \--so beautiful, the way you want me.”

“ _Yes_ ,” Cas was whimpering now. Every point where the harness touched him was lit up, sharp and hot, and with every movement he felt his grace shooting through his body. His cock was dripping onto the sheets, and it was all he could do not to lower himself, grind down onto the bed to relieve the pressure. It would be too much. It was already too much. Sam untangled his free hand from the sheets, sliding a finger around his own opening.

“Want to hold your wings, Cas,” he panted. “Dig my fingers into them, pull you back onto my cock and-- _fuck_ \--and keep you there--”

“Oh, _fuck, Sam, yes_ .” Castiel twisted under his throbbing wings, head and hands buried in the sheets as he imagined Sam holding him that way, trapped against the hunter’s body.

“--keep you there until you can’t--can’t take it anymore, make you--”

“Please, Sam,  _please_ .”

“--make you beg, Cas.” They were both so close, and the light from Castiel’s wings was flaring and dying, echoing his ragged breaths and sending light cascading over their bodies. Sam slid a finger into himself, pulling and twisting his cock but watching Castiel as the angel writhed, completely wrecked, in front of him.

“Cas-- _fuck_ \--Cas, look at me,” he begged, whimpering, and Cas did, glancing up to see Sam coming in thick stripes against his own stomach. “Come for me, Cas,” he panted. “C-Can you?”

And fuck, yes, he could. Cas sobbed as he came, feeling like his grace was being pulled taught from the tips of his wings to his fingers and toes, and every inch of the harness burned as it kept his shaking wings in check. Light flooded out from between the straps for just a moment, and then Cas was collapsing into the bed, the harness falling softly on top of him as he retracted his wings and the room faded into darkness.

Sam gently lifted away the harness and lay himself down next to Cas, and for a long moment they just looked at each other, stunned faces fading into grins.

“How do I look, boy?” Cas teased, reaching out to push Sam’s hair behind his ear.

“Amazing, Cas,” Sam whispered back. “You always look amazing.”

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at http://sammysalive.tumblr.com/post/75303669387/cas-has-been-around-humans-long-enough-to-know


End file.
